


The Greatest Masterpiece

by Bagelpocolypse



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game), Persona 5
Genre: M/M, Paintbrushes, frisky in the office, old wrinkly men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 17:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bagelpocolypse/pseuds/Bagelpocolypse
Summary: Jumin Han calls Madarame into his office for an unforgettable meeting.





	The Greatest Masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> This ship doesn't get nearly as much love as it should :( :(
> 
> Hoping I can change that.

It was a typical rainy night at C&R. Not too rainy, but the type that makes it hard to go outside with an umbrella. Like normal rain. Torrential rain sucks. Jumin Han had just finished up a meeting with several noticeable members of the art world, at the request of V, in hopes to make a Cat Painting Project. He just wanted Elizabeth the 3rd everywhere in beautiful, glistening oil paints. Much like the head of a bald person. Bald people were kinda hot in his opinion, but that was a secret he’d take to the grave. Among the artists, was a notable Japanese man, who went by Madarame. Madarame was quite experienced in the art world, so Jumin knew a deal with him would greatly benefit the company. Even Jaehee was surprised how eager the young heir was to meet with this talented gentleman. She figured it was for normal reasons, but she was dead wrong. Jumin Han is one kinky motherfucker.

Much of the staff had left at this point, but Jumin had requested to see Madarame after the initial painting, so the elderly man was sitting calmly in Jaehee’s office chair. He liked it because it was one of those ones that spins super fast, and he liked to go in circles until he threw up. As he was doing this, he heard a gruff voice, that was deep in a very masculine way, but not too deep, cause then it’d be gross call out.

“Step into my office.” With a hesitant gulp, Madarame wobbled off the chair, and followed Jumin inside. As he entered, Jumin shut the door behind him, and quietly locked it. Jumin motioned for the Japanese man to sit opposite of him, so he did. Madarame stared expectantly at the dark haired dreamboat. “I suppose you’re wondering why I wanted to meet with you in person.” Jumin smirked in that sexy anime way. Madarme cocked his head.

“I believe this was to discuss an art deal with me, no?” Jumin let out a deep gravely laugh, much like he was actually a heavy chain smoker, or had been eating sandpaper.

“I know your secret, Mr. Madarame.” He leaned forward, his hot breath on the older man’s neck. Madarme began to sweat.

“I’m hiding nothing!” He laughed uncomfortably. Jumin let out another weird ass laugh.

“I know about the Sayuri. You’ve been selling fakes. Haven’t you?” Madarame opened his mouth to protest, but Jumin shoved his finger inside. “Ah ah ah.” He chortled. “I wasn’t finished. What I was going to say was, I find that very…attractive.” Jumin licked his lips, almost as if his tongue was searching for crumbs. “I want to be your next masterpiece.” He grinned devilishly, unbuttoning a single button of his very striped shirt. Just one. He does everything in his suit, even swimming and showering. Nobody knows how it works. He just never removes it. Any pictures of him not wearing the suit are totally photoshopped. 

“This is so sudden!” Madarame hesitated.

“Oh but I need you now.” Jumin whispered, nibbling on his old wrinkly ear. Madarame shivered. With a sigh of resignation, the old man peeled of his shimmering gold robe. Underneath it, was an identical gold robe. That’s right. He was dressed exactly like his shadow. He was cosplaying.

“Nice cosplay. I like to cosplay as my father. It makes me feel important” Jumin grunted, “But I’d like to see you in less.” Madarame raised an eyebrow. “Whip out that paintbrush, baby.” The heir smirked in a sexual way.Madarame obliged. Jumin licked his lover’s collarbone, the other trembling with passion. Jumin planted kisses on Madarame’s saggy old body, finally meeting his face. As their lips collided, Jumin noticed Madarme tasted a lot like a funeral home. What the fuck? Slowly, Madarame’s hands moved down Jumin’s body. With a cry, Jumin pushed the artist onto the desk. Madarame moaned out in pleasure as Jumin whipped out his throbbing meat stick. 

“Time to make your finest work of art.” He grinned, breathless. God he was so hot. Madarame had no objections.


End file.
